Watching
by LightWight
Summary: She often asked herself why she'd never seen it coming, why she hadn't seen her eldest change so much from the boy who had been in so much need for love and care.


I wrote this quite some time ago when I was playing a _very_ aggressive Mage!Hawke... as a kind of character study, to see what made him tick. In the end, Leandra became the voice of the study because I often find it much more interesting to see a character from a different point of view. Also, I kind of loathed Leandra at that point and I wanted to do away with that. So yeah.

This hasn't got anything to do with _Dear To Me_ and yes, I'm still on that. Just not at the moment because real life has a way of interfering.

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**L**eandra could very well remember a time where Garrett had smiled all the time. "Her little angel", she used to call him then, and every time she did, Malcolm would beam and they would know that all that running and hiding was worth it in the end.

When Garrett had turned four, he'd shown that he had inherited his father's magic and the unending run for freedom began. A young mage could not control his powers like an adult. He could not hide his abnormality from straying Templars, nor could he refrain from using his power as a means of survival. His first kill was with four and a half years old, Leandra could remember very well. Malcolm had carried their son home, clutching him in his arms like he was afraid of what would happen if the boy touched the ground. Leandra had feared the worst, then, but other than a superficial gash on his right upper arm, Garrett had been unharmed. That had been his first lesson of how dangerous Templars could be and it had stuck.

Two years later, Leandra had held the newborn Carver and Bethany in her arms. Garrett hadn't exactly looked overjoyed but he had dutifully taken over one of the babes when his mother had asked him to. Malcolm had calmed her down when she'd voiced her concerns over their son's apathy to him.

"Give him time," he'd said "it's normal for a boy his age to be hesitant about changes in life."

Even more so if he'd already had to endure so much, Leandra knew, even though Malcolm had refrained from saying that. Days later her worries eased because as Garrett held a contently mumbling Bethany in his arms, he told her with all the confidence of a six-year-old: "I'll look after you, Bethy." and then he'd given his baby-sister his radiant smile.

On Garrett's tenth birthday, Leandra had thought that her heart would be ripped right out of her chest. Malcolm brought the boy home. He bled profusely, but not as much as the gangly boy that he'd lain on a couple of blankets. While her husband had begun to heal their son, Leandra had barely contained her tears as she'd taken in his wounds. Three deep, gaping wounds covered the left side of his torso and she could see a glimpse of white bone in his right arm. He'd been deathly pale and when Malcolm, exhausted but relieved, announced that he would live, Leandra had bawled like a little child.

He'd been attacked by a Templar after refusing to follow the mage hunter, Malcolm later told her.

Leandra had been able to see the slow change in Garrett. In hindsight, it all indeed really began on his tenth birthday. He had smiled a little less often, was just a little bit more motivated to learn and master his magic. And he was very obviously determined to never let anything like this happen to four-year-old Bethany who had just shown signs of being another gifted child.

As the twins grew older, Garrett grew increasingly more distant. Leandra would often worry but then he'd placate her with one rare moment of affection and she'd be at least reassured, if not content.

Garrett had already grown into an independent young man of eighteen years when it had hit Leandra like a brick in the face: He didn't come to her at all anymore. Not for loving hugs and touches, not for kind words, not even for simple gestures of family bonds. She'd often asked herself why she'd never seen it coming, why she hadn't seen her eldest change so much from the boy who had been in so much need for love and care. Malcolm would have never accused her of being a bad mother, but she had felt like one. Garrett still cared for her, she could tell that much, but it was a kind of distant affection that hurt her worse than any knife ever could. Carver had never taken much of a shine to his elder, because even though barely twelve, he'd declared an eternal rivalry between Garrett and himself.

Bethany, on the other side, got all of her brother's love for herself, it seemed. She basked in it like a young bird in fresh water and the times where he showed his little sister how to handle her power were the only times Leandra saw her son smile anymore. She missed the sparkle in his piercing blue eyes, the way they narrowed in an expression of glee while he threw back his head in uncontained laughter.

When Templars found them once again, he stood between his younger siblings and the Chantry's men, side by side with his father. They were able to escape once again, but Leandra noticed the cool glint in Garrett's eyes with quite an amount of unease.

It wasn't until Malcolm died in his eldest son's arms, though, that this coolness turned into blank coldness that would not warm completely again, not even for Bethany.

It was a hard feat to let Carver leave to join the army and even though Carver had always resented Garrett in a way that made Leandra wonder, the older brother tried to keep the younger from going to a fate unknown. Of course it was in vain but months later the younger Hawke came blundering back into the house, shouting about the King's death, the General's retreat and the nearing Horde of Darkspawn.

So they had fled. And with Bethany's death, things seemed to go from bad to worse for Garrett. Leandra herself had laid blame on him, had spoken harsh words that she had wanted to take back the next second but the damage had been done. Something in him had died out there in Lothering's reaches, like a little part of himself had ceased to exist with his father's death.

The big change was, though, that Leandra was scared of her son now. Not for him, but actually of him and it made a big difference. She felt guilt over her feelings but every time he spoke all she could hear was not the hard, indifferent, cold voice but the dead one underneath it. Every time those chilling blue eyes, so like Malcolm's but at the same time so completely different, met hers, she felt a shudder coming up and she had to avert her eyes hastily.

And then, one day, it hadn't seemed quite so dead anymore. When, one day, Leandra entered the Hanged Man to look for Gamlen, she couldn't quite believe her ears and eyes. Garrett, joking and winking, conversed casually with a stunningly beautiful, dark-skinned woman. Leandra didn't like the looks of her or how much skin she showed for that matter but she beamed nonetheless and left without further ado.

Year after year, Garrett's eyes seemed to warm. The change was marginal, that was true, but Leandra noticed it. It seemed to be due to Isabela, a name Carver had once mentioned with a certain amount of disdain and grudging respect, but with time, another mage by the name of Anders seemed to play a vital part, too.

When Carver left for the Templars, Garrett didn't make a fuss about it. He felt betrayed, she could tell, but he let his brother go on his way. This event made him fall back to old habits, but he didn't stay that way for long. Then, finally, he introduced her to Isabela.

"Mother, this is Isabela, a comrade of mine," he had simply said and given her a warning glance as if expecting her to scold the other woman for dressing herself scantily. Leandra, though, had merely smiled and given the darker-skinned girl (for she was no more than that in her old eyes) a warm hug and asked her cordially if she was up for some tea with rum.

Both Garrett and Isabella had seemed dumbfounded at first. No doubt had her son warned his friend about his quite conservative mother.

Over said tea with rum, Leandra lightly remarked about how she could stop looking for a wife, and gotten reactions that both amused her and told her everything. Garrett looked flabbergasted, an expression that she had not seen in a long, long time. Isabela, who was the type to take anything that was thrown at her, blushed furiously.

So they were in love. Deeply, madly in love. The question only was – did they realise it?

Yes, she finally decided while watching them say their goodbyes, they did indeed.


End file.
